Penny: "I was given 2 weeks to live, but I wouldn’t hear of it."

Penny took part in Walk in her Name in October, raising a fantastic amount and motivating the group with her regular updates. Penny was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in February 2024, after her symptoms were masked by a serious fall she had, which caused internal bleeding. This is her story.

"To save any confusion, my real name is Felicity; however, all my friends and family call me Penny. When I was born, my sister couldn’t pronounce the name ‘Felicity’, so my parents went through a few names, and the only one she could say was Penny ... so the name stuck!

Unfortunately, my initial ovarian cancer symptoms were masked because

In November 2023, I took a tumble down the stairs and badly injured my side on a hoover. If this hadn’t happened, I probably would have felt the symptoms developing and taken notice. Instead, because I had had such a serious fall, I associated the bloating and tummy pain with my injury, as opposed to what it was – ovarian cancer.

Over Christmas, I started having terrible night sweats and developed retching, which would happen erratically and completely out of nowhere. My main symptom that something was wrong was my temperature. When there was a change of temperature, for instance, if I had been inside and then outside, I could not regulate my body temperature at all. During this time, my stomach also began to grow at an alarmingly rapid rate (something I now know as a sign of ovarian cancer). Because of my fall, I went to see a liver specialist, who thought that this meant that my liver was still bleeding. As a result, I was sent for a CT scan.

This scan instead showed a mass of tumours."

"The scan result was clear: liver metastases, pelvic mass and peritoneal disease. The subsequent liver biopsy confirmed the cancer as high-grade serous carcinoma, stage 4. It was devastating for both my family and me. Once the doctors had scanned me they confirmed twice that he would operate, which was a relief. However, the following bank holiday, he then said he couldn't - he rang to give me my latest scan results and told me that my tumours were the size of a football. Because of this, there was no way they could operate as I’d bleed to death, and so there was nothing else he could do.

He told me I had two weeks left to live.

We were understandably all distraught, my sons especially. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, and managed to find another surgeon in Guildford who was willing to give me a second opinion. She told us that just the weight of the tumours alone could kill me, but I was so poorly I was willing to try anything – what was there left to lose?

She put me through five months of chemotherapy, with a session every three weeks. Amazingly, after the first round of chemo, my body responded very positively, and there was an immediate decrease in the size of the tumours, and my tummy didn’t feel like it was about to rupture anymore."

"The journey to Guildford became increasingly hard - the traffic jams I found very distressing and I retched all the time. Because of this, I only had one treatment in Guildford, and my sons moved me to the Royal Marsden, where I continued my chemotherapy until August, when the tumours had shrunk enough to operate. The doctors also told me that the operation would be very intense and traumatic, so I needed to go and take some time to seriously consider the options.

In September, after a family holiday in Italy, I returned to London for the operation. I had a total hysterectomy, a liver resection, a splenectomy, a cholecystectomy, a gall and spleen removal, and the lining of my diaphragm shaved. It took an absolutely huge toll on my body.

After my operation, I was kept in the hospital for 2 weeks, the first three days of which were in the ICU. After that, I was moved to a different ward.

The 10 days in the hospital were very hard on me, both mentally and physically. I felt mentally very low. I began to perk up when I got closer to being released, and as the number of medical attachments was removed."

"Once I was back at my home, the chemo continued for several months, but I could feel myself getting stronger. At this point, it was more the physical trauma from the extensive operation that I was having to recover from, as opposed to the cancer itself.

Throughout the whole experience, my friends and family were my life raft. The love and support of my family made me feel secure and determined to fight on; at the same time, I remained calm and mentally strong.

I really believe that it is crucial, no matter the odds, to stay confident in the processes presented, however galling they may appear at times. I put my affairs in order, asked my sister to organise my funeral, and set about gifting special things to my family and close friends, which made me feel in control of my situation."

"My hobby has always been horses and animals, and so my day-to-day used to revolve around them, and I am so fortunate to say that my days continue to be so.

Taking part in Ovarian Cancer Action’s Walk 100 Miles in October fundraiser was great, as it was a big challenge and something that I needed to work hard for.

The first week was tough, but it gradually got easier as I kept walking. To help visualise the true scale of the challenge for me, during my illness, at the lowest point in my health, my son would try to get me to walk around the coffee table just to get me moving, and I really struggled with this. Now, after the treatment, I managed to walk 100 miles in October for Ovarian Cancer Action.

I’m thrilled to say that there is no difference in my life now from before I had cancer. I continue to do everything I did before, but I am now simply 3 years older. After intensive chemo and a big operation, I made it! Going in the last three years from bedridden and wheelchair-bound to walking 100 miles!

What I want people to take away is the following: I was given 2 weeks to live, but I wouldn’t hear of it. For every treatment offered, I accepted it, and I never gave up; I kept pushing forward. This does not mean that the options were easy, but where there is life, there is still hope."